The Seeker
by ChuckBasstardDefender
Summary: 'I think i love this woman' E/B - Edward is a quiet, anxious guy who's never had direction in his life. What will happen when he meets Mistress Swan? Lemons a
1. Prologue

**This is my debut in the Twilight fanfic world. I hope to finish this baby towards the end of summer. Anyways, this is the prologue. :)**

* * *

The one thing mothers always scold us about is biting our fingernails. I suppose it could portray a slightly unhygienic image of oneself, but I couldn't give a rat's ass right in that moment. All I wanted was to get home and be by myself.

The city of New York was cold that night. I had to wear that warm leather jacket that made me look like some kind of douche trying to look sexy and my beloved beanie. My hair was usually in its crazy disheveled way and my patience was running low. And don't even get me started on my nerves… I had my old chucks on, so it wasn't all that bad. I think subconsciously I was trying to look less like a college asshole and more like a high school douche.

Fucking Jasper, always trying to get me laid.

The house was packed, as was expected in an Alice Brandon party, and the music was blasting from the ancient speakers, making my head pound even further. The beer was stacked inside a huge metal tub of ice, right beside the beer keg. _How much beer did those kids consume? Jesus_

Classes were coming to an end and finals were just around the corner. Only Jasper would want to go to a fuckign high school party on a Thursday night.

"Jazzy, baby!" I winced internally at the sight: Alice Brandon skipping over to us with her pixie-on-crack voice and spiky hairstyle that only she pulled off. Nice kid, from a nice family, whose panties were currently wanted destroyed by Jasper Whitlock. I could just smell his desperation.

The sleazy bastard smirked and said in his overly husky voice "You look hot", stripping her with his eyes; because he's smooth like that.

Fucking Jasper.

Alice giggled like the school girl she was, even twirling on the spot to show Jazz her new skirt. I knew she was trying to show him she was going commando. I swear I saw her bare ass. Jasper was drooling at the little show. He was so pussy-whipped.

_"Dude, do you know how tight those virgin pussies are? Not fucking kidding." _He would say in that whiny little bitch voice that made him so transparent every time I fucked with him. _"I am not fucking pussy whipped. I own my balls." _He was slightly high when we had this discussion.

I rolled my eyes, looking around the place with vague interest. It was nothing much; just a two story house on the outsides of Manhattan, I think it had a garden but it was too fucking cold to go out. There was so much smoke around me, and it sure as hell wasn't cigarette smoke, even my eyes teared up a little. There were passed out girls on the floor, getting molested by future rapists of the United States.

_Such a beautiful generation we have._

There were a few cute girls, but my ass was _so _not going to jail for some young meat. Only Jasper would pursue a high school girl. Fucking perv.

The stairs were empty, so I decided to go upstairs and go for a smoke in one of the bedrooms. Checking I had my shit I took two steps at a time, taking a freshly opened beer from a passerby, I locked myself in what looked like Alice's room. Shrugging I lit up my personal heaven wrapped in a paper stick. The smoke immediately relaxed me. I glanced at the **smoking kills** sticker the box had and laughed at its stupidity. I was still fucking anxious. The envelope was inside my jacket, burning a hole into my fucking chest. My hand was literally twitching to grab the damn thing and burn it. But I knew I wanted it, needed it.

"Here we go." I muttered, opening the large manila envelope. Originally, it was a neat, long envelope with the name Isabella Dwyer written neatly over my own name. I ripped it open and began reading the carefully written letter.

_Dear Edward Cullen, _

_I've carefully read your application, double checked your forms and pictures, and am pleased to inform you that you are appointed for an interview. I prefer to meet in public places, such as coffee shops, since you are a complete stranger and inexperienced. You must understand, you are not yet chosen, this is an interview, we still have to compare our preferences and see if we can make this relationship work. Please, write back or contact me as soon as possible. I' am a busy woman. _

_Hoping to meet you,_

_Isabella_

_P.S.: Nice pictures._

I smirked, knowing how explicit my pictures had been. Aside from my ego boost, I was genuinely intrigued by Isabella. Although I had never seen her, she seemed nice enough when I reviewed my options with Mrs. Cope.

I was definitely inexperienced in this. Never had I been a sexual slave for anyone, and to know there was an online company that was EHarmony for perverts, only furthered my excitement and curiosity. I had thoroughly researched the different types of submission, and even learned a few techniques. I had always been very quiet and not very social, only when the situation required it, which transmitted in the bedroom. I guess I was freakishly quiet, only a few grunts, and I never really _knew_ what to _do_. Being a submissive, I would be told what to do. There will be a scene that I had to follow, whishes I had to grant.

I got hard just thinking about it.

Taking a deep breath, I finished my heaven stick, and looked at myself in the vanity mirror, looking sick and happy. I decided to call Isabella that moment. I couldn't wait to see her.

"Speak," a female voice said smoothly. It sounded like a growl, but it was way hotter.

"Um… hi… it's… um…" _Shit, Cullen get it together._

"Who?" she snapped. I grit my teeth together, kind of annoyed at myself and her.

"Edward Cullen." I said confidently, finally finding my balls.

"You can't call me here. This is my work number." She spoke slowly, and I swear I'd never gotten this hard just listening to someone speak- or rather growl at me. I liked it. "I'll text you my personal number." And she hung up, leaving me jaw-slack and fucking horny as hell.

My phone chirped and I quickly called her. "You're not a people person."

"You may not speak." She almost scoffed and I bit my lip, knowing my smart ass mouth will get me in trouble later on. "I don't appreciate smart asses. We will meet at 12 pm, at the Gramercy Tavern. Be punctual and dressed formally, Cullen. I hate hobos." And, again, Isabella had left me jaw-slack and horny.

_I think I love this woman._

_

* * *

_

**Comments make my day :D**


	2. Paperwheight

**Hello, readers**

**I haven't received that much response, but i guess i will have to indulge you with long chapters and lots of teasing to get reactions from you guys. I'm going to start using a disclaimer, for the first time, so.. :) **

**I hope you guys like it **

**Disclaimer: I own my laptop, my fingers, awesome playlist on Itunes and my storyline; I don't own Twilight or Jersey Shore. **

"Tie, tie, tie," I chanted under my breath, ransacking the place. My room was always neat and organized, I always knew where everything was, and my _one_ decent tie was missing. I never lost _anything_. Under the bed, _no_… over the desk, _no_… the tie compartment, _no, but will check again. _

Most of the ties were gifts from my elder brother, Emmet, and some I had bought to piss off my teachers, and, in time, I had grown to have a very wide collection of ties which I was partially proud of, but while I passed my _South Park_ and Piano tie for the fourth time, I cursed myself for being such an immature asshole.

"_This is the situation…"_

Of course…

"Hey!" I growled, wanting to smack his post coital smirk off. There Jasper was, sprawled on the living room couch, smoking from his bong, watching _Jersey Shore_ with a confused expression on his face. Asshole. "Where's my fuckign tie?"

It took him a full 30 seconds to realize I was talking to him. "Wha…?" he breathed, and shook himself. "What's up with the harshness, man? It's Jersey Shore marathon day, the weed's good" he lifted his bong, gesturing towards it lazily. "I got laid, and… dude, it's a Jersey Shore marathon." His southern drawl was slurred and his eyes were unfocused, making me want to drown him in _Visine_; fucking Jasper.

I gritted my teeth together, hating Jasper, weed, sex and _Jersey Shore_. "Get. My. Tie. Now," he huffed, wincing when he stretched to stand.

"What tie, man?"

"The navy one I let you borrow for your job interview last week. How did that go anyways? Bills don't pay for themselves and I'm sure our parents are two arrests away from cutting us off."

"I only got arrested like three times and it was for like… public indecency. No biggie." I would never understand how Jazz got laid. Even in high school, when he was a tall, scrawny pot smoking motherfucker, he got laid more than I did and I was on the _football team_; I was entitled to tap some serious ass. But, no, it was as if I was invisible.

_God, I sound like a girl. _

"Right, better a pervert than a drug dealer."

"No one caught me, bitch. So, unless it's in my record, it doesn't matter." I rolled my eyes. "Why don't _you_ get a fuckign job, anyways? There are two brains, well and living, under this roof."

_No, there is only one brain living and well, because yours has been fried since high school from all the weed you smoke_. "Because, my friend, I'm still getting my business degree to work at my Dad's Corp. I, unlike you, have my future planned out." He made a gagging noise and turned down the volume.

I knew I was giving him a hard time, he'd actually been smoking a lot less lately. I was on edge and he was… there; too bad.

"I have the luxury to design my own life."

"Get a job and stop quoting Sex and the city movies, asshole!"

"Never took you for a Carrie Bradshaw fan, Edwina." I punched his shoulder and gritted my teeth. "So if you're not going to a job interview, where, then?" His conversational skills, even in his condition, were pristine. The dude could change the subject in a flash, product of years and years of living under the Whitlock household. His parents were… difficult.

"What's with the interrogation? I have a date and I want to look nice." I gestured to my black slacks and crisp salmon shirt, knowing I looked way too formal for the occasion. "At the Gramercy Tavern,"

"_That_ is what you're wearing to a date at the Gramercy Tavern?" Alice Brandon inquired as she took a place on the couch Jasper was previously sitting. Strangely, she looked as she belonged there, wrapped in Jasper's shirt and sitting on our couch, her eyes about to pop out of her tiny head. It was slightly comical, her reaction.

Momentarily baffled, I blinked. "Alice, put something on!" For the few months I'd known her, I saw her like a little sister, as weird as it may sound. Now that the deal was… _sealed_, there was nothing I could do but try to talk some sense into her.

"Um… no, _you_ take that off," the little girl mocked me… _me, _the only sane adult. "Show me your closet." She breezed past me and into my room. The nerve she had.

"What the hell Jazz?" I whined. "She's a seventeen year old fucking a legal adult in an apartment that isn't even ours. Do you want to be a child molester, too?"

"No one will know, and besides, Alice isn't living here. She's just staying the night."

"It's noon, Jazz. She's a good kid, don't corrupt her." He sighed and scratched his forehead, looking distressed. "Fuck, one of these days you are going to get caught."

"You sound like your mother, lighten up." I shut my eyes together. "Fuck," he whispered. "I didn't mean that."

"I know," I replied quickly.

"I got the job, Eddy." He smirked, patting me on the back. "It's pretty great. And the pay! Shit, you'd _die._"Jasper was a smooth motherfucker, always telling people what they want to hear.

I smiled at him, grateful I no longer had to worry about that. He was 2 years older than me, wiser and cooler than anyone I'd ever known, he was the kind of person that worried about your wellbeing before his. He could annoy the shit out of me, but he was the best friend I could ask for. And for him to take the role of bringing home the bread meant so much to me, after everything that had happened with college and my family.

"Tell me all about it when I return? But, how the hell did you get it with 3 arrests in your file?" Hopefully, it wasn't a semi-permanent position at a brothel or something equally outrageous.

"Edward!" the she-devil screeched before he could answer. "Why do you have a Mr. Pee Wee tie? Ugh, strip!"

"Oh dear Jesus," I muttered, slowly towards the evil pixie. "You better be getting properly fucked, because I won't stand this shit for much longer."

"Be nice, Cullen, I don't want a _situation_. And at least one of us is getting some; legally or not."

Fucking Jasper.

The pixie's hair was slowly rising, along with her anger. Her blue eyes were almost onyx, and I was sure my chest had dents from all the slaps she thought were playful. "No, Edward, you look like you're trying too hard." _Smack_, right in the stomach. "Cufflinks are for black tie events, not fancy dates. Jesus," Nice, now we're hitting on the head; I would be meeting Isabella with a concussion. "Can you please listen to what I say for once? I mean I've told you a million times you don't want to be trying too hard or the girl will be freaked out by you. Look," she held up a pair of grey slacks. "This has been _out_ for 4 years, the shade is way too dark for you complexion and I'm not sure about the smell." Scrunching up her tiny nose, she threw it in the trash can.

I didn't even protest this time. Half of my belongings were gone.

"It's a fancy place, Alice. What do you want me to wear?" I was irritated beyond words and Frizz was making no sense, talking about patterns and shades. "Just pick something."

"This isn't a monarchy! Outfits have to be an equal decision making from both the stylist and the..." she giggled. "Mannequin,"

"Jasper, I'm a _mannequin_ now, control your woman!"

"Hey! This is a conversation between you and me, leave Jazzy out of this." She poked her tiny finger into my bare chest. Apparently, when Alice worked, clothes not picked by her were unacceptable. So there I was, standing in a pair of black boxer briefs. "And quit the sexist comments. I don't appreciate them."

I snorted. "Kid, pick something." My closet was completely disorganized, and my patience was running out. I mean, seriously, who gave this much thought in clothes?

"Baby, just pull out something for him to wear so he can go, he isn't capable of making these kinds of decisions; only you can." Jazz called from the living room, making her relax and nod.

I smiled, in spite of the situation, knowing they complemented each other in the best way. Jazz was the calm to the Frizz's storm. "Just wear the navy blue suit, the pastel yellow shirt, the striped blue and silver tie and brown dress shoes and belt."

She turned to my mirror and snatched a comb out of my drawer. Apparently, her spiky hair was getting frizzy. "I have emotional hair."

"I'm sorry," I bit my lip, trying to smother the laughter that was about to bubble out of me. She caught on and sighted.

"My hand is sore from hitting you, tin man." I smiled at her tenderly. She was such a kid, still; fucking Jasper for corrupting her.

"Should I be scared?" I finished buttoning the shirt and pulled up the pants. "Will you grow out another one? From your head, perhaps?"

She turned to me, her pale face now scarlet, her eyes dark and her nostrils flared, smoke coming out of her ears. I visibly shrunk and feared for my life; this was the pixie wrath. "I don't think my _fist _is sore." What. The. Fuck?

"Ali, baby!" thank heavens, star wars and baby Jesus for Jasper. "Come see what just came _up_."

I scrunched up my nose at Alice's tiny form following Jasper's voice. Deciding it didn't matter, I continued to get ready. I didn't even want to check the clock, knowing I was running late for my date with Isabella. I decided to call a cab in advance to prevent wasting more time.

She never called to confirm I was going of anything; it was as if she knew I would never turn her down. _Or she changed her mind and was too much of a bitch to tell me. _Whatever the reason, I wanted so badly for this to work out. The reactions she got out of me were… _magical?_ I don't even know. They were foreign; anticipation, longing, curiosity… all these mixed together. That thought turned me on a little, knowing she was in control. And knowing she was going to be in control _all the time_ was… indescribable. I imagined her tall, all legs, blond hair and blue piercing eyes. She would be older, of course, hot as hell and with a dangerous presence; like you never knew how she would react. I hoped for all these things.

Still, the little doubt I had of the important part was making me want to run the country and jack off at the same time. What if I hated it? What if she wanted to publicly humiliate me? What if she spanked me for being late, like… publicly? What if she made me kiss her feet or crawl around her like a dog?

"Oh shit," I muttered and sprayed on cologne on, messing with my hair a bit. _Useless_, I sighed internally.

"Make sure to pay, tin man!" I barely heard Alice's orders while I checked my pockets- cell phone, wallet, keys, condoms (you never know) - and sprinted out the rented Williamsburg loft without glancing at myself in the mirror.

The ride was about 20 minutes long and I had 5 to get there, thankfully, the cab was already there. Smiling at my anal ways, I jumped in the surprisingly clean car and sped towards my destination.

12:56 PM read my wrist watch when we finally entered Manhattan and its hectic traffic. I groaned at my luck and decided to just mope about how Isabella was going to make me eat shit or something equally gross. Maybe I did a little _too _much research.

"How much longer, sir?"

"We're almost here, just about 20 blocks or so," the cab driver said in an Irish accent.

"Are you Irish, sir?" I asked politely, suddenly very interested in the man.

"Ay, mate," he exaggerated a little, earning a chuckle from me; I'd never met an Irish cab driver.

Suddenly, the man stopped the car and narrowed his eyes at me, right in the middle of Broadway Street. "Son," I furrowed my brows, racking my brain for any inappropriate comments on my behalf.

"Yes?" I replied in a tiny voice, fearing my life.

"What's that on your arm?" I jumped three feet in the air, shaking myself, fearing for my life.

"What? Is it a spider? Fuck, get it off! Please!"

"Calm down, kid," I took a deep breath, double checking I didn't, in fact, have any living thing crawling on me and made a fool out of myself. "Are you a Nazi?"

_Oh!_

While the pixie was in her fashion whirling, she probably didn't notice that the jacket I was wearing was part of my Nazi costume from last Halloween. I hoped the man wasn't a Jew. "You see, sir, my friend picked out this jacket from my closet and I forgot about it because I'm the most forgetful person on the planet, and..." I laughed a little. "It's a stupid joke." It really was. The armband was made of a piece of a scarf and a sharpie.

"Do you think this is funny?" oh shit. "My great, great grandfather fought in the German Army from 1940 to 1942. He was an Irish Jewish man. Do you know what those German cocksuckers did to Jews?" Here we go; the war memoirs. Let's hope for the short version.

"Killed them?" I blurted out, knowing I should have just run away from the man; he was talking in this dangerously calm voice you just knew was everything but.

"No, son, tortured them. Humiliated them, and _then_ killed them. He had to pretend to be a Nazi for those two long years. And do you know what they did when they found out he was a Jew?"

"Um, sir," I began, planning my escape route. "I really should…"

"I mean, how do you think I feel when I see those costumes?"

"Hurt?" He turned to me, tears running down his scarred face. "What happened to your face?" I blurted, ripping off the offending garment in an effort to calm him.

"I was caught in a fire when I was a boy." I grimaced slightly. "But yes, son, I feel hurt. Also, anger, for those insensitive people who think Nazis are a joke, and that just because it happened years ago, it's ok to wear a funny armband and laugh about Hitler's mustache." He took a deep breath.

"Can we go?" I asked, fearful of what this man could do to me. I had heard many stories of serial killing cab drivers.

"I don't drive Nazis." His eyes turned darker and his lips turned in a sick grin, and for the first time I noticed he had a bat in his hand. "Run, Nazi, _run._" I widened my eyes and nodded, opening the door and running away from the man.

One of the many things I hated about New York –aside from sensitive taxi drivers- is the fact that people always walk in the opposite direction. I mean, you waste a good 10 minutes in each block, just trying to get past these obstacles. Running past them will get you there faster, but trust me, it is a battle; few survive the ambush. The October wind didn't make it any easier; my nose felt frosted. Near the restaurant was a Starbuck, so I decided to do some damage control, there was no way I made it in time _and_ looked good. After waiting forever in the line, I finally got in the small space and saw my reflection. My hair was stuck to my forehead, my shirt was a little damp and my shoes were untied. _How the hell did I run like that? _

"Shit," I checked my phone.

_One missed call. _Crap, Isabella had called.

I quickly fixed myself as best as I could and walked the last two blocks to the restaurant with a confident stride, trying to walk off my nerves. The adrenaline rush from running had died down, and I was faced with reality.

My phone rang again. This time, I took a deep breath and picked it up. "You're late, Cullen." Her smooth voice answered without any cordials. I palms were a little sweaty, but I pushed the fact aside, putting all of my focus in sounding a least bit normal.

"Some complications," I replied after a beat. "Are you here already?"

"You seem better than the last time we spoke." I smiled a little, knowing I pleased her. "You're lucky I had a late meeting across town." Her voice held a playful tone, but I was cautious.

"How do you know I'm not there already?"

"Your neck is sweaty." I jumped a little and shut my phone, turning to her.

"You're observant." I smirked. Fuck, she was even hotter than I imagined. She wasn't blonde, and her eyes weren't blue and cold. Her eyes were almond shaped and colored in the darkest shade of brown. The wind picked up in that moment, making her long chestnut hair brush her bow shaped lips and button nose as the cold wind hit her pale face. She wore high heels and a large purse hung over her little shoulder.

I did a mental fist pump, embracing my inner Guido.

I frowned, noticing how thin her blue pea coat was. "You smell a bit, too." She scrunched her nose slightly. "Make sure this doesn't repeat itself." She scolded, no playfulness in her voice this time.

"I ran 15 blocks to get here."

"Haven't you heard of cabs, Cullen? They are the yellow cars you see everywhere."

"My cab driver tried to kill me."

"Did your smell disturb him?"

"Is it really that bad?" I smirked, liking our little banter.

"You'll never know." she smirked, her eyes holding amusement, brushing past me in long strides. "Let's go," she ordered, walking past me with a sway on her hips. I could do nothing more than follow her.

We entered the place, which was warmer -thank goodness- and took off our coats. I sighted, noticing how well her cream colored dress hugged her luscious curves. She walked ahead of me, not even stopping towards the hostess, whom followed us hastily towards what I assumed was her table, almost dropping her menus. I would have stopped to help her, but Isabella's ass was way more entertaining.

"Look all you want, Cullen. We'll see if you can touch." She murmured as she slowed her pace slightly. Her hair was closer to my nose. I inhaled greedily and noticed with satisfaction that her smell was as mouthwatering as the rest of her. Strawberries, Vanilla and sweetness… Isabella was mouthwatering.

We sat across each other while the hostess filled out glasses and lingered a bit. "I'll call a waitress for you." I glanced briefly towards the friendly woman, but returned my sight to my date. My eyes raked her form hungrily.

She narrowed her eyes, and licked her lips. "I won't speak about our arrangement in public; we will go to my apartment after lunch."

I nodded. "Then why are we here?"

"To get to know each other," she rolled her eyes playfully. "It's not like I'm going to have sex with you in the restroom. We have to be friends first, silly."

I ducked my head, feeling ridiculous. "Excuse my forwardness…" I trailed off expectantly, at loss as to what to call her.

"Call me Isabella, for now. But don't get too used to it."

"Isabella, may I call you Bella?" she inhaled sharply and narrowed her eyes.

"I'm sorry, I must have totally blacked out in the part I asked you to call me that." Her voice was sarcastically sweet.

I clenched my jaw, wanting to smack myself. "I…-"

She visibly clenched her jaw and snapped. "Just Isabella, ok?"

After a beat, the waitress came, asking us what we wanted to drink. Bella asked for a glass of red wine and ordered the same for me. I wanted to protest, but since she was being all cold and bitchy I didn't want to ruin my chances. The waitress came with our drinks and set them in front of us. Bella sipped her glass in silence, looking upset; I couldn't move.

Shit, already I was screwing up with my goddess.

_Ok, what the fuck, Cullen? You _just_ met her. _

Clearing her throat, she began. "You'll have to excuse my rudeness; I've had a long day." I pursed my lips, unsure of what to do. "You may speak," she giggled.

"Would you like to talk about it?"

"No," she replied quickly and looking at me. "The file Mrs. Cope sent me says you're 22."

"She's awfully nice and innocent looking," I commented, she looked up at me and smiled.

"If you'd known the kinky fuckery she was into when she was your age."

"Mrs. Cope? Seriously?" She nodded playfully and I sighted in relief.

"Do you mind me being older than you?"

"It depends, how much older?"

"I'm 27 and a half." She said with a smile.

"I don't mind. I think it's very… arousing."

She bit her lip. "Do you like older women, Cullen?"

"I like _you,_ Isabella." Oh, how much I liked her.

"You barely know me." Her eyes held this uncertainly, fear almost.

I chuckled. "Are you dangerous?"

"I'm not safe." The tension was palpable and made me uneasy.

I mock gasped, she frowned at me. "Oh my god!"

"What?" she looked around frantically, then at herself. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, no… I didn't expect this."

"Cullen, are you _on_ something?"

I held my laughter. "I mean, I didn't think you'd _do_ something like this!"

"Like what?" she cried out indignantly, her cheeks blushing furiously. "What is it?"

"For god's sake, here we are. You got me into your table, you give me a drink. Now you start opening up your personal life to me and telling me you're dangerous."

"Are you _not_ over 21? Oh god, you're a minor!" she panicked slightly, moving her hand to take away my glass of wine.

"Mrs. Robinson, you're trying to seduce me." She gaped at me, her hand frozen in the air while a slow smile spread across my face. "Aren't you?"

"You… you…" she huffed, looking adorable and so much younger.

I laughed at her whole heartedly, clutching my belly while she huffed and cursed me under her breath. After a moment, she chuckled a bit with me and took a deep breath. We stared at each other for a long moment.

I was afraid of what was going to happen with beautiful Isabella. Surely, this little, precious creature couldn't hurt me so badly. Her mind games were puzzling, she was an emotional rollercoaster and her presence was thrilling; how bad could it really be? I knew that underlying that cool exterior, the odd warning her voice held, she had to be this sweet, caring person; her eyes were so innocent, filled with sadness and youth.

"Does it bother you that I made fun of you?"

She smiled. "No, it's kind of… refreshing." She laughed a little. "Thank you. I needed to laugh it off."

I smiled at her, thankful that I had fixed my impression on her a bit. When the waitress came she actually let me order by myself; I chose the steak. All that running had me starved.

"I'd like the Caesar salad, dressing on the side, no croutons, with anchovies, no pepper, and no salt. Thank you." The waitress was a little too distracted staring at me, I doubted she got everything. "Can you repeat our order?" Bella asked sticky sweetly, knowing she hadn't gotten her order right. I saw a flash of jealousy in her eyes; I liked it.

"Um… steak, sided with mashed potatoes, no pepper, medium rare and a Caesar salad," she still stared at me. I had to admit, she was kind of cute- Lauren_, _I read in her name tag-, short blonde bob, green eyes, big boobs and nice figure overall; she was probably a college student like me. I would bang her, if I wasn't with Mrs. Robinson. "I totally got it, ma'am. _Chill_,"

"_Chill_?" Fuck, she was hot when she spoke in that low, commanding voice that terrified you. Lauren turned to her with a bored expression on her face. This was going to be ugly. "What are you, some kind of high school stereotype? Please,"

"Why is she still talking to me?" she spoke in that annoying high pitch voice, ignoring Bella. I bit my lip, shaking my head sadly and looking at Bella who was the picture of coolness. "What's your name?" she rubbed her palm up and down my chest, and while it felt kind of nice, I still looked at Isabella for aid.

"Lauren," A tall, well dressed man appeared. "Do you know who this is?" he gestured towards Bella.

"Um, no, don't care," did she have no common sense? My god!

"This is Isabella Dwyer, the CEO of Dwyer & Clearwater, the largest entertainment corporation in New York." She blushed slightly from all the praise, looking away. I help up my palm on the table, but she ignored it. "Also, one of the Gramercy Tavern biggest investor. She doesn't pay and gets the best treatment, those are the rules."

I gaped at her. Isabella was…? I did not see that one coming. I knew she was loaded but man; a guy could use a warning. "It's alright, Jacob." She said his name with a hint of tenderness that bothered me. "Run along, Laurie." I almost laughed at the contrast of how she treated Jacob and the rude waitress.

"It's-"

"Don't care," Bella shoed her away. "Oh! One more thing," she began. "Never call anyone ma'am unless they are on a wheelchair; it's insulting."

"I am so sorry, Miss Dwyer." The Jacob character asked in that same tenderness; My fists clenched unconsciously. "This will never repeat itself. What was your order, the usual?" she nodded her head with a smile.

_Jesus, you're getting jealous over a dude that doesn't even call Isabella by her name. She's just being nice. Chill, man, please._

"I'll have the steak," I spoke up for the first time, feeling slightly ignored by the tender display. I hated him instantly.

"Of course," he looked at me quite… angrily. I brushed it off and gave him a polite smile. "Any guest of Miss Dwyer is treated exceptionally, excuse Lauren, please, she's new."

"Oh don't worry about it, Jacob," Bella said with a beautiful smile.

After a very _exceptional _meal, a bottle of the finest red wine and some fruit salad, Bella and I walked out the restaurant without paying or speaking to each other after the Mrs. Robinson joke. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, thankfully, but I still worried I might have crossed some invisible line between making a joke and mocking her. And Isabella was not to be mocked. She was dangerous, unpredictable and an emotional rollercoaster.

"My driver is just pulling up." She commented while we waited. "He'll take us to my suite so we can talk business." I nodded, trying to sense her mood. She was being polite.

"Where do you live?"

She chuckled. "You'll see." And we're back at playful Bella.

A white Chevrolet Tahoe pulled up in front of us and the driver opened his door to open ours in the backseat. "Miss," he said curtly while Isabella climbed in. Her heel got caught up, sending her backwards towards me.

"Oof," I groaned, wrapping my arms around her. There was this electricity when her soft body came against mine, we both gasped. I'd never felt anything like it.

"Ugh, sorry," She took off her shoe and sat on the leather seat, effectively freeing her from my arms. I pulled out the shoe from its trap and handed it to her with a smile. "Thanks." She scooted over and I climbed in after her. When the door closed, I noticed how the car was divided like a limousine; we were out of the driver's earshot. She pressed a button and the black screen pulled down, revealing the back of the driver's head. "Take us home, Rob, please."

"Of course," the man replied as Bella pressed another button to pull up the screen.

"I don't understand why I fell, Cullen, excuse my klutziness." She frowned. "I thought that my problem had been fixed with adulthood and heals."

"Maybe you had too much wine," I said without thinking.

"Hardly, I drank 2 glasses." Maybe_ I_ drank too much wine. "Don't criticize my drinking habits, I have to check my drinking constantly, since I have one kidney."

I winced internally; why couldn't I stay quiet for once. "I didn't-…"

"You wouldn't have known, Cullen."

"Still, I'm sorry I was rude. You must be traumatized with that waitress."

She giggled. "I put her in her place,"

"That you did," I winked and my eyes zeroed to her lips with a hungry stare.

"You should know by now that I won't kiss you before we talk about our arrangement. It's a rule." She said in a breathy voice, looking at me hungrily, too.

"Maybe we could make an exception,"

She squared her shoulders and pursed her lips. "Not when the desire for it is one-sided," she brushed me off and sat straighter, pulling out her BlackBerry and texting almost immediately, ending our conversation.

The drive to her place was short, and before I knew it the driver had opened our door and we were walking towards an elevator. I stared out the glass wallsa and gasped out loud.

"Are we in the Verre Tower?"

"Yes," Bella replied with a small smile. "My company is one of the MoMa benefactors and got a penthouse out of the deal."

"What kind of entertainment does your company with?"

"Mainly art and theater, but now we're trying to enter the film area. Let's not talk about work, it's boring." I made a mental note to avoid speaking of Bella's job.

We entered the small space of the elevator along with a dark skinned woman with long dark hair.

"Jane," Bella greeted formally.

"Miss Dwyer." She replied curtly.

"This is Edward Cullen, my friend. Edward, this is Jane Volturi, my assistant." The woman turned to me and did a little bow, not making eye contact, I waved and frowned. "She's from a Sharaj," she whispered. "Men in her country are superior, to be respected and never looked in the eyes. Even in America she keeps these… traditions." She whispered with a secret smile. "Pretty ironic, isn't it?"

I didn't have time to respond, as we arrived at her floor. The penthouse was spacious, decorated with modern and expensive-looking furniture in shades of blue and purple, an odd mixture that somehow fit Bella. The walls were painted with a cream color that balanced the strong colors of the furniture, a few abstract paintings hung along them- just two or three. There were no personal pictures of Bella around the place.

The kitchen looked new but somewhat well used and tidy, all at the same time. The living room had a large, comfortable looking blue couch with asymmetrical purple pillows, mirroring a plasma TV, next to a large, blue ottoman with purple designs on each side of the room. There was a long, wooden coffee table in the middle of the tastefully decorated living room, topped with empty flower vases filled with colored marbles. Underneath the TV was a fire place, right next to a set of metal stairs that lead to the second floor.

There was a dangerous looking thing that ran through my feet. I jumped like a girl, running away from it. "Cullen!" Bella scolded, laughing along with Jane. "That's Alec, my Genet." The thing crawled up her leg and she actually picked it up and petted it. "He's an exotic animal." She dropped Alec into Jane's arms and removed her coat. I did the same and have them to Bella. She threw them across the back of the couch.

"Come with me," Bella pulled my hand and we passed the long hallway that lead to a large set of wooden doors. They looked slightly medieval and regal. The contrast of Bella's pale skin against the dark surface of the doors made her look kind of like an angel. I smiled softly at her exited face. "We're about to enter the Palace." She bit her lip, her skin in that beautiful scarlet color that made my blood boil in the most delicious way. "From now on, you're my pet. You can't call me Isabella." I stayed silent. "I liked the Mrs. Robinson remark. Call me that, please. Mistress or Ma'am is too generic. Let's put our own twist into this."

Her eyes shone in excitement and her smile was radiant, she looked beautiful.

I still didn't speak, not unless she asked me to. "Speak your mind, Cullen."

"I'm ready, Mrs. Robinson."

She sighted happily and caressed my cheek, making me look into her beautiful eyes and my skin tingle with her little hands. "Never disappoint me, please. I don't like punishing such pretty boys."

"I will _only_ please you, Mrs. Robinson."

With a peck to my cheek, she turned to open the doors and stepped in. I followed her and frowned as I looked around. The room was white, completely white; there were no more furniture beside a very dramatic-looking, long red love seat. Bella took a seat and patted the space beside her. A stack of papers were neatly folded beside her, I noticed, as I sat.

"First of all, I am not here to establish what I want and what I need. This is where you speak your mind and reach an agreement, in a respectful manner, of course. I want to see you face." I had my head hung and looked up to her blankly. "Thank you, you may ask anything when I ask you."

I nodded. She looked down at her little clipboard and tapped the pen in her hand against it. "What is your level of experience?" She looked up at me expectantly.

"Non-existent," I responded simply. She nodded, scribbling something into her papers.

"How long have you had these interests?"

"About a year or so,"

"What made you look for a Dom _now_?"

"My ex-girlfriend slapped me for not knowing how to make her… _release _during intercourse, Mrs. Robinson. I felt…" I sighted sadly, remembering that night.

"… Insufficient." She whispered sadly, her eyes downcast. "I'm sorry." I shrugged and smiled. "What is your sexual orientation?"

I resisted the urge to sputter and show her my dick, while giving her a speech of how much of a man I was, but instead I calmly responded. "Straight."

She seemed surprised with my response, but continued. "What kind of relationship are you looking for?"

"What do you mean, Mrs. Robinson?"

"Do you want to be a submissive to stay one or do you want me to train you to be a Dom?"

I frowned, at loss as to what to say. I could tell her to train me, but that would mean I would have complete control over someone else. I would be ordering them around to my pleasure. That would be very unfulfilling for me. I wanted to learn how to make a woman come. Yes, that was my purpose. Not be a Dom, but become a sex god.

"I want you to train me to be a sex god."

She looked at me as if I'd grown a second head and was asking her to go to the moon. "A _sex god_?"

"I mean, I've never known what to do in the bedroom, ever. And now that I finally have the courage and the looks to _get some_, I don't know what to do when I've got it."

"You're a very attractive man, Cullen. Why would you have trouble getting women before?"

"I didn't always look like this. And I'm kind of awkward…" I trailed off, feeling like an asshole for telling my insecurities to a complete stranger.

"You're not awkward with me."

"That's kind of why I like you, Mrs. Robinson."

She sighted and squared her shoulders. "I'll teach you to make woman scream your full _fucking_ name, Edward Anthony Cullen, you just wait." She said with a new found ferociousness.

_I only want to make _you_ scream. _

_You just _met_ the fucking woman, quit with that. _

"So this will be a specialized training, ok." I nodded. "We need to have those interests clear and in the open. This will be a temporary relationship, then, until you're ready to fuck without my guidance." I was surprisingly saddened by the thought of leaving Bella behind, but I had a purpose and I planned to follow through. "We'll have to divide our time in 'Isabella-time', which is you pleasing me as my sub and 'Cullen-time', which is me teaching you _boring _sex things. When you combine those two, Cullen, you'll be a babe magnet." She winked and I was dazzled.

"Let's continue," she made a couple of notes for a moment and looked up at me. "How do you feel about bondage?"

"In which ways, Mrs. Robinson?"

"Tying you up to my mercy,"

"I would be… curious." I smirked.

"Good, we'll work our way up." She smiled, writing excitedly. "What about pain?"

"I feel partial towards it, only if it comes with pleasure."

"If you behave, it will." There's that wink again. Shit, that turns me on. "Sex in a scene?"

"Completely necessary," I responded quickly. She giggled and rolled her eyes. "Only if it pleases you, Mrs. Robinson." I hastily added.

She smiled, satisfied. "In which settings are you comfortable playing in?"

"I'm not into public displays, but I wouldn't mind doing it in a restroom or somewhere dangerous."

"Hmm… I feel partial about public sex. Even with the danger that withholds, I prefer private settings. But we can work something out, if you'd like, maybe in the 'Cullen-time' portion of our time."

"Thank you, Mrs. Robinson,"

"Our activities will be private, all of our time. No one will know. To everyone, we're dating. Is that ok with you?"

"Yes, Mrs. Robinson."

"In public you'll call me Isabella, as discussed. And you will accompany me to any kind of function. You will be provided with everything you might need, ok?" I nodded. "Cullen?" I looked up. "I'm sorry to tease you, but hearing you call me that does… pleasant things to me." Her voice was low, slurry and so fucking hot.

"Your mere presence makes me hard, Mrs. Robinson."

She bit her lip. "We should finish this." She frowned, nodding furiously. "I'm going to tell you some roles I'm interested in playing, and you can nod if you'd like to try them. Shake your head if you don't." I nodded and moved closer to her, trying to catch her scent. "Cowboy/ Cowgirl?" _Nod._ "Doctor/patient?" _Double nod._ "French Maid?" _Nod._

I stared into her eyes, nuzzling my nose into her neck, hoping she didn't reject me. "Interrogator/Suspect?" _Nod, inhale_, _shudder._ "Rapist/Victim?" I pulled away. Thinking about it, and looking at her innocent face.

_Shake_. She seemed disappointed.

"Hero/ Warrior?" _Shake._ "Nurse/ Doctor?" _Nod._ "Pirate?" _Snicker, nod_. "Policeman?" _Moan, nod._ Her voice turned breathy and shaky, I brushed my lips along her vein; she was so pale.

"Prince/ Princess?" _Double shake._ "Slut?"

"You or me?" I whispered against her skin.

"Me." _Shake._ "You?" _Shake_. "Teacher/Student?" _Nod._ "Teen?" _Double nod,_ I longed to see Bella in her little band t-shirt and klutziness. "Any fetishes?"

"For now, neck fetishes," she laughed breathlessly. I still teased her skin with my inexpert lips. I was so comfortable with her; I didn't understand why I was so… freely sexual with her.

"I can feel it." she murmured, scribbling into the clipboard that was still mysteriously out of my sight. "Do you have any medical or emotional concerns?"

"I'm allergic to leather, almonds, and have sprained my left wrist." She pulled away, looking at me expectantly. "Old football injury," She nodded and I returned to my new favorite spot.

"Will we be monogamous?" I nodded again. In a moment of boldness, I began to pepper her perfect skin with close-mouthed kisses. "About protection, I'm on the pill, but I want to use condoms, too, at least for the beginning of our relationship. We need to have you checked up before we have intercourse or kiss."

"Would you believe me if I told you I was clean, Mrs. Robinson?" she groaned when my tongue peeked out in one of my kisses.

"Don't call me that for now, ok? It's too distracting. Call me Mistress, only for now." I nodded, flickering my tongue again. This time she pulled away. "Self-control, Cullen." She scolded.

"I'm sorry, Mistress." She closed her eyes for a moment.

"Anything you say is distracting." She bit her lip at her admission. "And no, I wouldn't trust you."

"I understand, Mistress. Can I ask you something?"

"Yes," she finished scribbling and looked up at me.

"Will you collar me?"

She smirked and slipped off her shoes, revealing her stocking clad feet. They were adorable and tiny. I wanted to bite them. Maybe I had a foot fetish. "You'll see." She noticed my staring at her feet. "I think you've found a feet fetish, Cullen."

I smiled, holding out my hand. "Only by your feet, Mistress, may I?" She nodded and put her tiny feet on my palm.

One think I learned from my father was how to give the best feet massages in the world. I remember him teaching me how to do it with my mother's feet; she would laugh so prettily when I offered to massage her feet after a long day at the hospital. I shook myself, forbidding myself thinking about her.

Bella moaned softly when my thumbs applied pressure on the sole of her feet. "Where did you learn this?"

"My father, he demanded us, me and my brother, to learn how to give great feet massages. He's a physiotherapist."

"Who do you look like, Edward?" I frowned. "I mean, from your parents, like whom do you look like the most?"

"My mother," I smiled sadly. "But I have my father's jaw and massaging skills. My brother, Emmett, has paws instead of hands so his massages are more like torture." She giggled. "He looks like my uncle Aro, my father's brother, which is odd when they're together. I always tease him about being adopted."

"Your family sounds fun."

"We're not a family anymore," I almost growled. "Next question, Mistress, please," I stopped massaging her feet and sat up straight.

She looked a little baffled but nodded. "How do you feel about spanking, by Hand?" _Nod._ "With a Wooden Paddle?" _Nod._ "With a riding crop?" _Nod._ "Cullen?" I looked at her. "I'm sorry I made you talk about your family, I didn't mean to upset you." She gulped and squeezed my shoulder.

"With a Belt or Strap?" I raised my eyebrows. "If you behave, you'll like it, I promise." Well… when she spoke like that. _Nod._ "Now, how do you feel about hot wax? It's a special kind that melts and turns into oil. This will come as a reward. I will never leave any permanent damage on your skin ok?" I nodded, returning to that nice spot on her neck. She sighted in contentment and continued. "Fire and Ice?"

"Only ice, please, Mistress."

She giggled. "I figured, needles?" I'm sure I looked like my eyes were about to pop out of their sockets. I shook my head vigorously while she laughed. "Directed masturbation?"

"Could you explain?"

"Like live phone sex." Oh, yes. I nodded vigorously. "Vaginal and oral sex?"

"Please, Mistress," she shook her head in amusement.

"Vibrators/Dildoes on both of us?" I nodded. "Really?"

I shrugged. "I'm curious, Mistress."

"Strap-on?" _Nod._ "Anal Sex?" I bit my lip and nodded slowly, cautiously. "Anilingus?" _Nod._ "Silk Scarves? Vaginal Fisting? Anal Fisting?"

"Yes, Yes, no." she chuckled.

"Fantasy Rape?" _Shake._ "Foot kissing?" she said while giggled. I nodded and pressed a kiss to her neck. "Kneeling?" _Nod._ "Dirty Words?"

"Fuck, yes, Mistress."

"Genital Bondage?" _Shake._ "Gags?" _Shake._ "Cuffs?" _Nod._ "Spreader Bars? Pillory? Suspension, Full/ Toes?"

"No, no, no, Mistress." She pouted. "Ok, which is your favorite?"

"Oh, Cullen," she breathed. "Please agree to suspension, please." She bit her lip to suppress a squeal of delight at my nod. I liked seeing her happy and exited. "Blindfolds?" _Nod._ "Headphones/Earplugs?" _Nod._ "Pinching/ Tickling/ Hair Pulling?"

"Please," Whoa, where had this husky, sexy voice come from? I mean if I'd had it in high school I would not be having this problem.

"Nipple Clamps/Clips/Clothespins?" _Nod._ "Cock Rings?" _Nod._ "Ball Spreaders?" I vigorously shook my head. "Voyeurism?" _Nod._

"Is that all, Mistress?"

She bit her lip. "How many hours would you like to play?"

"How many you prefer, Mistress."

"I like to do 3 hours or less. And I only play when I'm in the Palace- that's the playroom." That look again, of excitement and beauty that I had only seen twice. "You'll be emailed a schedule of the weekend so you come prepared."

"When will we play?"

"Next Friday,"

We stood and looked into each other's eyes for a moment before she sighted. The tension was thick in the room, and we were breathing slightly heavily.

"You'll be a superb sub, Cullen."

I could only hope.

**Fist pumps for reviews :)**

**PS: i have never seen Jersey Shore, but I embrace my fist pumps :p**


	3. Transition

_The city around him was one small room._

_He leaned into the dark portal, gray_

_shade in a door, a shadow of himself._

_His eyes were closed. His rhythm became him._

_So we have shut our eyes, as dead or as_

_other, and held the thought of another_

_whose pleasure is need, face over a face ... _

* * *

"Help," Jasper snickered behind Alice as she attacked me.

"What happened? Did she like it? ..." and so on she continued as her bony knees dug into my thighs.

"Shit, no, get off!" I cried out.

"I will when you tell me," She said through her teeth, putting more pressure.

Jasper came to my rescue, pulling her by the waist and depositing her on his lap, across the living room. I sighed in relief as Alice calmed down.

"Now, how did it go, man?" Jasper, so calm and collected, asked.

"It went." I crossed my arms over my chest. I sure as hell wasn't going into details.

"Let's do it step-by-step, ok?" Alice began. "Did she_ seem_ to like you?"

I pondered the events of my meal with Isabella. I supposed a summarized version could work for the moment "Yes." I replied with a small smile, remembering the lust filled gaze Bella gave me when I was nibbling her neck back in The Palace.

Lunch_, Cullen, focus!_

"What did you eat?"

I frowned. "I ate steak," she grimaced at that.

"Did you pay the bill?"

"Yeah," I smiled, quite satisfied with the little manly grunt I added in the end.

Nodding to herself, she widened her eyes. "Did you kiss?"

"None of your business, but she said she had an amazing time."

Alice's body visibly relaxed. "That's a good sign. Unlike you guys, we girls mean what we say and are honest after a date." I chuckled and wondered if this rule applied to Bella; she wasn't like any other woman in New York.

"Does this apply to _every single woman_?"

"Unless she's a heartless bitch, yes," I pursed my lips, hoping Bella wasn't a heartless bitch.

_She's a Dom, of course she is_

"Whatever, at least I'm old enough to date. I can go on public places with her and everything." Apparently the immature attitude wasn't going anywhere.

"Damn, that was lame." Jasper laughed. Alice's smile didn't reach her eyes. "Don't listen to him, we have something on him."

"What's that?" she asked.

"I happen to know, my sources remaining anonymous, that our Eddie here…" he paused, for dramatic effect, I supposed.

"What in the hell are you about to…"

"That Edward Cullen, this man right here…" Jasper continued, intriguing me further.

"Yeah?" Alice all-but shrieked, fisting his t-shirt in her tiny fist in excitement.

"Reads erotica,"

After a few beats of silence I snorted and shrugged. "So?"

Jasper seemed a bit put off. "Well, if word got around that you read that shit…"

"Oh, I get it!" Alice's smile was wide and honest. "This is blackmail."

"It's not like I was going to tell anyone." I muttered.

"Just in case…" Well, that certainly left nothing else to say.

"I'm gonna go to my room." I said, getting up.

I frowned and noticed that the loft actually smelled good. I stuck my hand between the cushions, looking for a pizza crust I was sure Jasper left a few nights ago, noticing it was also gone; nothing, empty and clean.

"Hey, who cleaned? The place looks… normal."

"I did," Jasper said proudly.

"Bullshit, I cleaned and cooked him lunch. He ate and looked at my ass the entire time." Jasper kissed her cheek and she rolled her eyes, but he was forgiven. She loved the attention.

After a while, Jasper came into my room. I turned on my pillow and burrowed my face in it. I was tired as shit.

"Ed, come on, man, talk to me." I rolled my eyes and burrowed further into the fluffy texture until I could barely breathe. He sighed, rubbing my back.

I sat up, shaking his hand off. "Quit that rubbing shit, it's weird,"

"I knew it would make you talk to me." He smirked, putting some distance between us. I sat up rubbing my stomach. "She's getting dinner, by the way."

I sighed. "Yeah, ok, I like her. But don't mention it to her; it might go up to her head. Emotional hair and all… might be hazardous to our health."

"Shut up, man. Her hair is sexy when she's turned on."

"Oh god, my ears," I muttered.

We moved towards the kitchen after I changed from my suit to a pair of sweats and a t-shirt.

"My job is awesome." Jasper said, and I smiled at him and plopped down on the couch with a beer.

"Tell me about it,"

Jasper always had the weirdest jobs in the world. In junior year of high school he was a personal food utensils polisher for our school principal, our very hot female principal. Some _extracurricular activities _with said principal got him through high school. Last summer, he was a letter writer for Mrs. Hums, a widow that didn't believe in Internet; all he had to do was send a few 'thank you' letters to some of her relatives a few times a week, from his house, if he wanted. He would never admit this but I was sure he did receive some bonuses from Mrs. Hums, and not the ones you cash in at a bank.

His eyes lit up and began telling me about enthusiastically. "There's this dude, Jonah Jinks, and he's obsessed with the Civil war, so he's collected years and years of memorabilia, guns, papers, clothes and what not."

"Shouldn't that be in a museum?"

"That's where I come in. I haven't told you but I've taken an archeology course, and most of it is how to preserve old shit and sell them to museums."

"Aren't you supposed to be a journalist?"

"Yeah, but I can take other classes." He replied defensively.

"I just don't get how archeology comes into the journalism career plan."

"Not everything has to be a plan, Edward. Maybe I wanted to do something spontaneous, and by doing that I think I might have found my vocation." I knew this was ending badly. "Stop mentally patronizing me, asshole, I know what I'm doing."

"You said the same thing about art classes, piano lessons, guitar lessons, swimming classes, veganism…"

"OK!" he exclaimed with a chuckle. "So maybe I'm kind of inconsistent with my spare time, but I've always been pretty serious about my future."

"When you were 14 you decided to be a painter and ran out of home, cut class for 5 weeks and… should I continue?"

He was blushing and choking on his laughter. "Do you have some kind of Japer dossier or some shit? How the hell do you remember this shit?"

"We lived in _Forks, _population: two thousand three hundred nosy bitches. Everyone remembered Jasper Whitlock's stunts."

He got smug after that comment. "None of my stunts are as good as the great 2001 Runaway. Get this; I get twenty grand when I'm done organizing, by the end of the year. The dude has a freaking warehouse full of shit. I start on Monday. Can I borrow your old ipod? I might die of boredom."

"Sweet fuck… twenty grand? That's… that's amazing, Jazz." I rummage around the kitchen cabinet and find my beat up ipod, still working, and hand it to him.

"I know man." He fiddled with the buttons and frowned. "Fall out boy! How long has this been in there? Oh, speaking of old stuff, Emmett said we were meeting at Mike's for beers and wings."

"Who's playing?" I deadpanned. Emmett never _just _went out to get beer.

"What? No one!" he was such a bad liar.

"Jazz… come on, spit it out." I knew the only reason we all went out was to see a hockey game.

I enjoyed being in a room full of buzzing energy of sports, booze and testosterone, dudes- and the occasional hot girl- screaming for a team whether they won or loss (just the act screaming insults at the TV screen) as some kind of bonding situation. The thing is I hated hockey for some unknown reason. I just hated the sport. Never played it, never been to a game, I just had to endure the occasional game, always accompanied by two die hard Blackhawks' fans.

"No one, seriously, get dressed. Alice is coming over with pizza. Emmett's coming in like half an hour."

"He knows there's pizza here, surely. Nothing gets him off his ass as fast as pizza."

"Or Rose's p-…"

"Dude!"

My phone chirped from the floor.

**E, Expect word from me on Tuesday; you may reply ;) –I **

That little emoticon made my heart swell.

**Can't wait 'till Friday -E**

I knew that I wanted this, with all my heart, and I knew I was a consenting adult, getting into something that I wanted- craved, even-, so no one was forcing me to do anything, and I was getting some 'sex' lessons from a goddess afterwards. However, her cryptic demeanor could put a bit of a damper in the 'getting off' department. Maybe it was intentional, something to mess with my head so she had all the power.

"Tin Man, dinner's here." I hear Alice's yell from the kitchen.

"Coming, Frizz." I quickly shut my phone and left on my nightstand.

"_Getting jiggy with it_," I buried my face into my hands, trying to ignore what was happening.

Emmett was singing at the top of his lungs the Will Smith song playing at the bar, five seconds after entering. We weren't even seated. Jasper, of course, followed his lead. Soon enough, they had a little audience, even mimicking the dance moves from the video. Emmett, being this huge dude with a really low voice, singing this ridiculous song - no offence to Will Smith- in the middle of a sports bar filled with manly men just like him.

"What you wanna ball with the kid, watch your step you might fall, trying to do what I did," Emmett and Jasper began doing these vulgar dance moves, looking suspiciously rehearsed, rapping their asses off. "Mama-unh, mama-unh, mama come closer. In the middle of the club with the rub-a-dub, unh," Then, of course, they pointed at me in complete synchronization. "No love for the haters, the haters,"

After the song ended, the large crowd applauded them for the show and we were finally seated.

"Could you guys _be_ any more embarrassing?" I was still buried into my hands. I knew I shouldn't have let them do those shots before going out.

"Come on, _Chanandler_; take those hands off your pretty face. I don't think I remember what you look like, you've been hiding too long under them." Emmett pried my hands away from my face, to find my glare directly at him. "There we go,"

"Don't call me that," I grumbled.

"Your comebacks are seriously lacking," Emmett scolded. "And you_ totally_ sounded like Chandler." Jasper nodded in agreement, pissing me off further. I knew I kind of sounded like him, but I would never admit that.

"Maybe his _virile member_ has something to do with it," Jasper muttered. My hands clenched at my sided and my gaze burned a hole into Jasper's forehead; of course the asshole was looking away. What was so wrong about a couple of sex scenes in my light reading late at night?

"Is that some kind of sexual innuendo? Did you get laid, Ed?" Emmett said way too loudly. I felt my cheeks burn and my head bow in embarrassment. Our waiter just smirked at me and patted me on the shoulder, giving me my congratulations.

"He didn't, the idiot." Oh but I would be every damn weekend. "He did have a date today, though." Jasper added.

"Progress," Emmett nodded encouragingly. "Any second dates in the near future?"

"Sure," I shrugged, debating whether or not to announce the fact that I would be absent every weekend. "It's in the near future." I hesitated, trying not to give much away.

"'he 'ot" Emmett grumbled with a mouthful of bread. I grimaced and shook my head. He understood my distaste for talking with full mouths; I refused to reply. He swallowed, taking a large gulp of his Bud. "Is she hot?" he repeated slowly.

"Very, and older, too,"

Emmett slapped my back, proud of me. "Well, shit, we have a Benjamin Braddock here, people."

"Why is it that everyone always recurs to 'The Graduate' references when a guy dates an older woman? What about 'Harold and Maude' or 'Thelma and Louise'?"

"Because Maude was an eighty year old woman and Thelma and Louise were way too into that feminism movement." He whispered the last part and looked around.

"Don't worry, man, Rosie isn't here." Jasper whispered conspirationally.

Emmett chuckled and continued, visibly relaxed. "Mrs. Robinson was hot and classy, with that submissive side always lingering when she spoke. She was wild one moment and quiets the next, always ready to pounce."

"And then you get this awkward dude, whom everyone relates to, and embarks into this fuck awesome affair." Jasper continues with an air of excitement. "Only to end up with the hot daughter," Jasper added, and then sighed. "That dude is my hero."

"Ok, so she was your usual unhappy, rich housewife with a dark side that decides to fuck a younger guy, and they don't even stay together at the end. So?"

"So?" Both Jasper and Emmett exclaimed in unison.

"Oh, god shut him up," Emmett cried to Jasper.

Then Jasper began. "Edward, I get your cynic commentaries when it's forwarded towards your sex life, college and your family, but please, don't touch 'The Graduate'." His voice was aggravated and sincerely hurt. What was it about the movie? "Have you seen it?" I shook my head, still in disbelief of their defensiveness towards the movie. "He doesn't understand," They both looked incredibly relaxed. "It's ok."

Emmett nodded. "We'll rent it for you, ok?" I laughed at the absurdity of him. Who the hell got this worked up because of a movie?

"Let's have a normal conversation, please. How's work at the firm?" I asked. These two spent way too much time watching movies; a little dose of real life was needed.

"It's… going," Emmett grimaced. He and his college roommate had opened a construction firm about a year ago and were struggling with getting clients and such things. They were both young, 28, and extremely smart, so I knew they would make it through. "I mean, it's only our first year, and our accountant says it's perfectly normal, more so that we're literally fresh out of college." Jasper patted his shoulder in a reassuring way.

I almost laughed out loud. Jasper came from old money, everything he needed and wanted was given to him, but I shut up, not wanting to create a fight. Rose was a little more down to earth than him; she really did know what living with nothing was.

From the moment she graduated high school, she moved to a crappy apartment in Connecticut while attending state college. She didn't want to owe her parents anything. I admired that. When she met Emmett, she knew they were meant to be. She kept him under a leash and he loved it, they were both pretty independent and down to earth, so when they married about two years ago, I was glad and gave them my blessing. Don't even get me started on the wedding, but let me say this: my dad and the Whitlock parent unit were severely traumatized, along with a few other Cullens (yours truly included).

I was lucky enough that Jasper wanted me to move in with him in the apartment that his parents were paying for. Even if it _was_ Brooklyn, the place was pretty nice, not _Upper East Side nice_, but nice enough. We did live at the dorms for the first year, but decided that we were much better than everyone else.

"You'll be fine, Em," I patted his shoulder awkwardly.

"Yeah, I know." then he cleared his throat and called over the waiter. "Two cheeseburgers, medium rare, lots of bacon, lots of cheese and some hot wings, please."

"Will that be all?" the waiter looked up from writing.

"What about you guys?" we laughed.

"God, you're such a food hog. How can Rose ever stand your eating habits?" Jasper murmured. We finished ordering and sipped our beers as Emmett continued.

"She likes my hot beef injection," Emmett replied in this throaty low voice. Jasper and I hit his head, calling him a pig. "Oh, fuck off! I try to keep myself healthy for my lady."

"You might me the cheesiest pig in the planet, again, I do not understand."

"Look man, all jokes aside, the girl kind of complements me. I mean I'm a corny pig and she's a harsh hot bitch, I make her laugh when she's all pent up and moody and she keeps me on my toes with her no-bullshit attitude. Graduating college wouldn't have been possible if it weren't for Rose's encouragement. I love her for it, and for being passionate about her and the ones she love." I smiled, cherishing this moment. Emmett is the kind of guy that cracks jokes at fucking funerals, holding a beer in one hand and a plate of food in the other, and he has these rare moments of sincerity, when he lets his funny man mask down and shows himself. I was in awe. Jazz's eyes even watered a bit.

"Yep, definitely the cheesiest," I said, smiling a bit.

The rest of the night was fun. I even enjoyed the hockey game a bit. Emmett yelled for the three of us and drank for the entire population of the bar. We had to drag him to his apartment in SoHo. Rosalie just smacked his head and pulled him inside.

I went home with Jasper. Not like that, but you know, we live in the same place.


End file.
